


Alas, Mother, You Have Killed Me

by Nagat



Category: American Gods (TV), American Gods - Neil Gaiman
Genre: Anti-Judaism, Asexuality, Baby's first porn, Bending canon a lot, Canon Typical Murders, Canon-Typical Abuse of Religious Imagery, Capitalism, General Sacrilege, M/M, Memes, Mildly Dubious Consent, Racism, anti-Christianity, canon character death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-10
Updated: 2017-08-10
Packaged: 2018-12-12 02:20:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,782
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11727480
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nagat/pseuds/Nagat
Summary: “I didn't know there is still a place like this in America. It was a dead fucking zone. Every square meter of this damned continent should be covered by wlan by now. Or at least fucking electrified.”It didn’t make any sense. Entire America is covered, compromised, they say, damn, the whole world can be tracked, with the right device and tracking instructions. Geostationary orbits leave little to imagination. What even happened in that place?After the funeral, Mr. World has a small talk with Technical Boy. It's not nice.More warnings in notes.





	Alas, Mother, You Have Killed Me

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Cvokhauz](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cvokhauz/gifts).



> I dedicate this fanfiction to Alza.
> 
> Contains manipulation, some dubious consent elements, minor panic attacks, generic borderline instability which comes free with IT guys, referred daddy kink because of Freudish shenanigans and so many memes. There is also more that one dead kid referred but you will miss it if you blink. And a little cameo of prof. Hiroshi Ishiguro because I'm a nerd.  
> The setting and characters are mix of the show and the book. 
> 
> The title is from an old Hungarian ballad about a girl who was sold for one glass of wine by her mother and then died on her way to the wedding.

c:/users/jory/documents/2kXX/funeral_motel04.ink

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Get m€™ out.

_The motel room was dark. Dark, with only moonlight illuminating the forever empty shelves and a hard unused bed through old curtains; filled with the unpleasant smell of all abandoned places, and, once the Technical Boy stopped banging his head against the wall, also uncomfortably quiet. No static, no white noise, no persistent and invasive hum of electricity, which is so spread around the Earth it’s not audible to human ears anymore, unless it stops. Then it’s missing._

_The boy tried to reach the AEHF satellites. Nothing. He let out a desperate noise._

_Everything in his head was screaming._

_ <”I didnâ€™t know there is still a place like this in America.”>_




* * *

01001001 01000100 

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“Were you really trying to do what I think you were?”

Mr. World looked at the boy. His hair was tied into an over complicated bun with a wing-like wave partially covering his forehead. It wasn't enough to hide the bruises on his face, even though most of them were already turning yellow.

“What exactly are you talking about?”

“You know I am usually not concerned about our personal affairs or agendas, but in some cases, they have to be regulated.”

The Boy's eyes wandered around the room. He never particularly liked the places Mr. World chose to spend his time in  - quiet hotels where nobody neither noticed nor cared if you were gone for days, with almost no room service and the exact same breakfast every day, the price advertised as very reasonable. It made Mr. World look like an aging divorced businessman with no stable place to sleep and no woman to regularly fuck. At least this particular hotel had free wifi.

The kid was scanning the room, looking everywhere but the older man's eyes.

“You can get to the point.”

Mr. World sighed.

“I certainly did not expect you to trying to get into Shadow’s bed.”

“You are making assumptions.”

“Then what was that about? Licking your fingers during the dinner? Asking him to let you stay for a night?”

Details. That got his attention.

“Did Media already deliver the gossip to you? Or did she live stream it? Fucking incredible.”

The older man's face changed to cold seriousness. He looked at the boy's mouth.

“I thought she had already had a talk with you about appropriate behavior.”

His mouth shivered as he bit insides of his lips. His front teeth had a permanent glassy texture. They were slightly heavier than the original ones. They got cold or hot as well, depending on the drink he got.

This was no time and place to snap. Not in front of him.

Anger and something else was boiling inside the Boy.

He stayed quiet.

Mr. World went back to his usual calm, composed self.

“As I said, your personal affairs are not my concern. However, under these circumstances, I believe a discussion is appropriate.”

The Technical Boy snorted.

“Fucking incredible.”

“I understand your interest, but Shadow Moon is-”  
“I wonder if you had this fucking conversation with Media. She looks like she will fall on that guy’s dick the second he doesn’t have his pants on. Or Ostara. She’s probably dreaming about choking on his cock like it’s a harvest.“

Mr. World looked at him, unamused.

The boy resigned. “I wasn't looking for a fuck.”

“That’s it? Am I to believe you really just wanted to fraternise with him?”

“No. No I- Let me rephrase it. It wasn't the fuck I was looking for.” When his companion didn’t say anything he continued.

“It was that room. It drove me crazy. I felt… buggy.”

It wasn't the best description. Actually it was wrong in every way, but he wasn't able to define the discomfort that place caused him.

He laughed at that memory. A sharp exhale with an undertone of hysteria.

“I didn't know there is still a place like this in America. It was a dead fucking zone. Every square meter of this damned continent should be covered by wlan by now. Or at least fucking electrified.”

It didn’t make any sense. Entire America is covered, compromised, they say, damn, the whole world can be tracked, with the right device and tracking instructions. Geostationary orbits leave little to imagination. What even happened in that place?

“It was like I was suddenly useless. Nobody. I needed - something. Anything.”

The tip of his nose started to itch.

<”I felt alone. Abandoned.”>

“It was her. The black whore,” his breath was becoming ragged. “If it worked for her, it could work for me too.”

The older man looked at him with genuine surprise.

“She was goddess of love. You are completely different.”

“No- Not like that. I- It's the oldest way of worship.”

“How did you figure it out?” Mr. World’s voice was uncharacteristically quiet.

“It was what you and Wednesday were talking about the entire time. I’m not deaf - or stupid, for that matter.”

<”I hear everything. I understand implications. I _am_ communication.>”

_Sometimes only one is enough._

Mr. World suddenly stepped closer. There was something unreadable in his face.

“Going back to the old ways then? Unusual for you. For any of us.”

He touched a bruise on the Boy’s forehead, massaging it with his thumb.

“So when your poor attempt at seduction didn’t work, you went straight to prayer bump?”

“Don’t be ridiculous.”

The man was now using both of his hands to rub the Boy’s eyebrows.

“Do you understand our essence? What we _are_?”

He didn’t realize how much his hairstyle had been pulling at the skin on his head. He felt dizzy.

“What the- are you talking about?”

“What are you? Do you even know that?”

A God.

That’s what he is.

What all of them are.

Mr. World was speaking. The boy realized he had to have blacked out for a second.

“Ideas. We feed on people's attention more than on intentional worship. That's the difference between us and the old ones.”

There are ways to create Gods. And to maintain them.

Belief. Worship. Devotion.

Anthropomorphic bullshit.

“What I’m saying is, it probably wouldn’t work. Even if we omit the part where you intended to get carnal worship from the man you tried to kill earlier.”

He didn’t see Mr. World’s face, but his voice sounded amused. He untied the Boy’s hair and started massaging his scalp.

But it was never about pleasure, was it? It was the focus. Energy given and accepted. Shadow's distaste for him was strong enough to serve as a proof of the Boy’s existence.

“I don’t see a problem with that. He would still get the job done.”

<”I know everything about him. I see his every step. You should see his internet search history.”>

If Mr. World wanted to get a confession, he would get none.

<”You know how much he wants to hit me. You felt it too, back then at the police station.”>

“It was a pure technical matter.”

He felt nothing.

“That place was a shithole. Why the fuck would you even send me there.”

“You have a problem with self control in critical conditions.”

There was something in Mr. World’s voice which didn’t match his words.

It took him a while to process the comment.

Of course. He almost laughed. Of-fucking-course.

 

c:/users/jory/documents/2kXX/meeting3X.ink

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_“I need you to attend the funeral.”_

_ <“What? Why the fuck should we go there?”> _

_“Are you doubting my decision?”_

_ <“No I- Shit. I just don't get it. It was US who killed him! Why should we go to his funeral?”> _

_“We didn't kill him personally. Our attendance will be a gesture of peace.”_

_ <“What about his man. I fucking lynched him. I doubt he will be happy to see me.”> _

_“Then you will assure him everything bad is behind us.”_




 

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“You need to learn how to maintain self-control when you are not the one in charge.”

Mr.World was still stroking a back of his head.

“We are going to war. I cannot rely on you if I don’t know you can handle yourself. Under any circumstances.”

A hand settled on his neck. He breathed in Mr. World’s cologne. It smelled distantly of peat. No, a forest. Something like that.

“I’m glad you found your compromise, even in such conditions, but your solution goes against your nature and experience, which presents another problem for us.”

He knew that Mr. World was right. Sexual worship wasn’t something which would go with his nature. He was not programmed for that. It was an old way. Expired. Outdated. No longer used.

“You weren’t made for it, but you are able to adapt.”

Optimalisation. Genetic programming and evolution.

This was getting hysterical.

Ideas are not typically phenotypic organisms. Progress is a never ending motion. Everything new is begotten in haste. The pyramid of basic needs has been upgraded.

“Fortunately, this can be corrected quite easily.”

There is nothing like a potential function if that function doesn't already exist. Yet, testing potential function is exactly what evolution requires. Fortunately, his current hardware was built to fit the minimal requirements.

“You have to understand - we need to ensure that you will be able to carry on without lasting consequences.”

The boy actually laughed now. Fucking incredible.

“Is that why you called me here?”

<”I understand implications.”>

His hands had been hanging down for the last ten minutes. Deactivated. He raised them up slowly.

Moss. The man smelled of moss.

Mr. World made a move like he was going to push the Boy’s hands away, but stopped himself.

<”At least you bothered with a touch of remorse.”>

He slipped his fingers under the man’s belt, touching the button of his pants. He tried to look as defiant as possible, but didn’t encounter any visible reaction. Hands moved from his neck to under his jaw, forcing him to look up at Mr. World.

“I want you to know  it’s your choice. But if you refuse, you will lose the opportunity to see if it works for you.“

He felt manhandled like an animal. Or worse a child.

“If you put fingers near my mouth, I’ll fucking bite them off.” His voice was quieter than he intended.

Something about Mr. World’s smile was deeply unsettling. For a second the Boy had a feeling that his insolence would backfire. Hands were removed from his face. He had been given a choice.

Mr. World was close and he smelled good.

At first he thought the man kissed him. But it was probably him who moved first.

 

He fumbled with the man’s belt between kisses interrupted with breaths far too desperate for his liking. He intended to keep his face. Times like this, you make a misstep and the whole world sees it. He tried to get his hand into the other man’s underwear, but he stepped away. The Boy felt a slight shiver at the loss of shared body heat.

Mr. World gestured to the part of the room which contained a bed. “Undress, please.”

<”Now, you must be fucking with me.>”

“This is absolutely unnecessary.”

“Sex has established rituals you want to follow, if you want to mimic the outcome.”

The Boy rolled his eyes.

Rituals are false customs, fucking honeypots set for the majority on the border line of average IQ to feel fucking included while watching them closely.

<”Do you also expect me to bleed on the bed, so you can display the soiled sheets in the morning, like the colonialist fetishist you are?”>  
“This is just. Fucking ridiculous. Ancient. There is no need to-”

“I thought you would prefer it logically structured. Think of it as an algorithm.”

“I know exactly how sex works like. I am fucking viral.”

“I never doubted your knowledge of pornography.”

“Fine, if you need me to be naked to get hard, whatever.”

He started to take off his clothes. He felt Mr. World’s eyes watching him but when he looked, he found him putting his own clothes neatly aside, not paying much attention to him.

For Mr. World this was really mere technicality then. That pissed the Boy off. The guy was probably doing it just to look better than him. Damn, he even looked like someone who gets a kick from boosting his ego over anyone who is younger than him. The Technical Boy would have none of this. He threw his clothes uncaringly on the floor and briefly considered leaving his socks on, just to metaphorically spit in the man’s face, but decided he is good few years past the possibility making the lolita aesthetic work for him. He climbed on the bed with the most stubborn face he could muster.

Mr. World joined him, still wearing his pants. Obviously the kid wasn't the only one playing a power play card here. Good. Two were playing this game. He kissed the man again. Daring. Just to see if he could. To his surprise, Mr. World let him. He even allowed the boy to pull him on the bed and climb over him.

The Boy was actually just a little shorter than the man and in this position he was good two inches above him, but Mr World’s frame was significantly broader than his own, still quite boyish figure. His hands held the boy’s hips, shortly trimmed fingernails digging into his flesh, subtly implying he wouldn’t escape if he tried to.

A calloused hand wrapped around the boy's dick. He gasped softly, breathing shallowly into Mr. World’s mouth. The man reached behind him to find something in the nightstand drawer. He brought back a bottle of lube. The Boy suppressed the thought of what is maybe expected of him, but the hand returned to his dick wet and slick. He noted his own hands are considerably smaller. And less rough. He couldn’t say he didn’t enjoy the dry friction before, but this was definitely better. It would take a little more to get him fully hard, but so far it wasn’t as bad as he expected. He moved his hips in little stutters to meet other man's palm, moaning softly.

Mr. World pulled back, eyes scanning him.

“Help an old man out, would you?”

The way the man looked at his mouth left no space for doubts.

It was also something the boy was not up to.

“Oh, fuck no.”

This situation was weird enough without him literally sucking Mr. World's dick. That would get him lost in the metaphor. It also did not contribute to their goal at all.

Mr. World sighed, amused.

“This is problem with you, artificial ones. You never had a chance to develop an oral fixation.”

The boy almost whined with annoyance. Fortunately, Mr. World went back to stroking him before the boy had a chance to tell him where he should stick his psychoanalysis. He released himself from his pants, bringing their dicks together.

“A shame, really. You have nice lips.”

The man kissed him again, his tongue sliding between the boy's lips into his mouth. His legs were pushed further apart to make it easier to stroke them both. He let out a deep breath. He wanted to help, but Mr. World slapped his hand away.

“Hands up.” His hands were put back on the man’s shoulders.

“Don’t move them unless I tell you to. Let me take care of it.” That seemed reasonable. After all, this was about him. He found it difficult to hold a complex thought. He felt pleasure spreading through his whole body. It was intoxicating. One of the man’s hands was stroking him while the other pulled at his hair. He felt like he was being sucked in by the man’s deep kisses.

Mr. World seemed to really like his lips. He had to admit that was - flattering. It wasn’t only getting attention, it was being the center of the whole fucking broadcast, all that power centered to the network core of his mouth. He felt the power radiating through the man’s body and let himself feed on it. Absorb it.

“Ah, shit. It’s really working.”

He made a mental note to reconsider that blowjob refusal later. Mr. Word’s hand was stroking him. This was Mr. fucking World, the most powerful man he knew, jacking him off and all that power was being transmitted to him. His head was spinning. This was exactly what he had been looking for.

“Looks like you and the Old Gods aren’t that different when it comes to distribution of power.”

If it follows the pattern. When people bang their knees on the prayer bench, it counts as 1. Getting up is 0. Their output is their God. This was just a direct input shortcut. He did the best to ignore the man’s uncalled for wisdoms, to avoid killing the mood. It was hard for him not to get distracted during getting off even without old man trying to talk a hole of bullshit into his head.

He pulled himself more onto Mr. World’s lap, grinding desperately against the older man’s hand pressing their dicks together. He held onto the man's shoulders, letting him place wet kisses on his neck.

“Will you let me fuck you?”

Mr. World was harder than him. His breathing stopped.

“You would have let Shadow to fuck you that night.”

There was an unsaid expectation in the older man’s eyes.

If that’s what he wants.

No one will ever call the Technical Boy a coward. He could take everything Mr. World was giving to him. Soon he will be as powerful as him. He was going to prove himself his equal.

“Yeah. Sure.”

Mr. World smiled.

“Splendid.”

He reached for the bottle of lube on the nightstand.

The boy turned himself on his knees . He took a deep breath and closed his eyes when Mr. Word’s finger circled his entrance.

He wasn’t nervous.

It wasn't like this was a first time he’s had something in his ass. He would be lying if he said he had never tried to finger fuck himself. Damn, he did it immediately after he found out it was in option. But was years ago, decades maybe. His time was a precious commodity and stuff like this took too long. He never liked it that much anyway. It was more efficient to quickly get off to the nearest aviable porntape which contained at least thirty percent of his kinks, usually ending up with some D-grade shit like Teen Lesbian Caught By Stepdad, and then going back to business.

Mr. World slipped a second finger in. Now, this hurt. The man's fingers were way more thicker than his own. And with better angle they went deeper. He bit the inner site of his bottom lip. Hard.

He couldn’t say he never imagined what would be like to have sex with this man. The first time he had thought about Mr. World in a sexual way, he was very young. Really fucking young, unstable, untamable and unable to hide his distaste for the man. He had yet to learn how to show respect to authorities, even though he felt none.

 

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_He watched the man resolve some petty struggle of few foreigners who thought the expansion of a certain American corporation can be stopped by non-violent resistance. They had support of some insignificant local Gods which made the generic trade struggle little fishy. If it was up to him, he would just erase the from the system. No disputants - no dispute. He saw Mr. World to handle the situation with elegance and grace, without raising his voice or a finger. When the man left the room, everyone agreed with him, giving up their voice voluntarily. Mr. World could use tanks to conquer others, he just didn't usually find it necessary. Why would you use physical force when you can make people literally pay you for enslaving them. Usually. Of course America always had monopoly on war._

_You can still buy Starbucks in the warzone of Syria._




 

He had admired the man back then. Admired and hated him with the same passion, made worse by the fact he got hard just from watching him. Later that day he he jerked off to the desperate idea of strangling him. Younger him would kill Mr. World if he could. Younger him would also fuck him first. Or after. Someone once told him that even when a man’s brain is dead, his dick still works for few minutes. Younger him was fucked in the head. Hormones make you that way. Fortunately these times were long gone.

Mr. World had his way around people. He could make them to do exactly what he wanted without any visible force. It was atypical for him to misjudge a situation as much as he did with Wednesday. This was confusing. Maybe the man was finally getting outdated.

* * *

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The stretch widened and the boy tighetend with pain.

“You could have, ugh, warned me.”

“Where would be the fun in that?”

He rolled his eyes. Slick fingers were prodding his insides, poking the soft texture of his body, looking for the spot which would bring him pleasure. Make him relax. Open him better.

“You are doing great. You open easy.”

Fucking. Bullshit.

The boy felt that he was stretched to his limits. He didn’t think he could take anything bigger without tearing. It was obvious he had never been stretched this much. This wouldn’t work. Maybe if he knew where the next touch would come, he could relax. Take his time opening. Try to remember which place to press. But he had no control over Mr. World’s movements and he was moving _inside_ of him.

“I think you can take one more for me.”

No, shit, he fucking couldn’t. He twitched on Mr. World’s fingers. He felt a tip of the fourth one prodding the stretched ring. Fucking dammit. He did not sign up for this. Mr. World’s dick wasn’t that thick anyway.

“Fuck me.”

It was the better option right now.

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah, I’m pretty fucking sure.”

Fingers were removed and he experienced a few second of relief before the delight of not being touched was went back to that crampy feeling in his guts. Fine,he was nervous. He felt the man move behind him and tried to focus on his own breath. Shit, he felt himself tensing up. That wasn't good. Hands were back on his hips. The touch was ridiculously gentle. Mocking.

“No need to pamper me. Just get on with it.”

“You will thank me later for going easy on you.”

Before he could shott back something clever, Mr. World's hands gripped him harder and the man started to push in.

Ah.

Shit. Fuck.

The man’s dick was definitely bigger than his fingers. Obviously. He should have examined guy's dick properly before letting him anywhere near his ass, because that shit fucking burned. Mr. World was right, he would have let Shadow Moon fuck him that night and now he was starting to be glad he didn't, because he had a problem with taking a white guy’s dick, and if black men are superior in something it's cock size. If porn is to be believed. He almost chuckled at his own mental joke, but Mr. World pushed deeper and oh, shit, maybe he should have let him use four fingers, fuck.

Why the fuck do people do this voluntary. Fine, maybe gay men don't have holes to choose from, sure then, but why would women like this. Speaking of Shadow, he did not miss the search history of that tiny wife of his- but in her case it was possibly yet another manifestation of self loathing.

He let out sharp pained gasp. The man behind him stroked his neck.

“You are doing well. Just one more inch.”

“Hey, I-”

He was thrown forward by a hard thrust. His trail of thought was interrupted by dull pain in his abdomen. He bit the insides of his cheek and slammed his head into the mattress to keep himself from crying out. Mr. World obviously hit something which was not supposed to be hit. His eyes started watering.

“Factum est verbum Domini. The God’s word has finished.”

The fucker fucking patted his butt like he wanted to congratulate his fucking ass on a job well done. The boy was gasping for air. It took all his self control not to whine in pain. He forced himself to reclaim calm composure.

“Sacrilege again? Hah, you like to- to taint Christianity too much.”

“Ah, why not? Are you feeling religious all of sudden?”

“I just wondered- hah - If you are being biased.”

“Christians are fascinating. They stripped the religion of the good parts. But it is not just them. They have to thank Jewish anti-anthropomorphism for that.”

A theological discussion with the whole fucking world in his ass. Great. Heart reacts only. The more conscious part of him decided that playing along was better than being torn in half. He laughed into sheets.

“And God created man in his own image.”

“Yes. Right. They deny the truth even before the question is asked. As I said. Amazing.“

Mr World’s hand was soothing, gently scratching his back.

“The most widespread religion of all the time. And it goes directly against human nature.”

“Don't know about that. Humans seem to be natural masochists.”

Mr. World laughed. The boy felt it inside of him and found it disgusting.

“I mean the nature of the Christian god now. Not holy austerity.”

“Also fucking overtop.”

“People are narcissists. Self centrists. In truth, they only want to worship themselves. Just look at you. Now they are worshiping their own creations again.”

If his ass weren’t on fire, he would really growl now. He contented with rolling his eyes up to his skull.

“Ugh, so that’s the moral? That I am not so different from the old guys and I should respect them? Great, noted. Can we go home now?”

Mr. World sighed.

“I’m trying to tell you that some things about nature of gods cannot be changed. You can erase native gods by crusades or whatever holy war you please but then, if you aren’t supported by humans, you disappear anyway. Christians had to introduce saints. Humans turned demigods again. Because people would not understand their incorporeal god.”

The boy briefly considered telling the man to stick his wisdoms up his ass but ahaha, he didn’t think Mr. World was ready for a joke of such caliber.

“That sounds terribly status quo ante. It is also bullshit. We are not dependent on human worship anymore. We are the ones deciding when and where they will worship us.”

“I agree that in our case the offer determines demand, but do you really think that’s enough?”

<”Well this definitely is enough.”>

“Ugh. Just move already.”

It wasn’t like the fucking could be more painful than the conversation. Although reconsidered the idea immediately when Mr. World started moving. But the pain had to disappear sooner or later. At least he hoped. He wasn’t going to ask the man to go easier on him. He felt like a complete pussy. The man set a slow rhythm, not going as deep as he did on the first thrust, and yet the boy felt like he was being torn apart.

The man above him gasped.

“How do you feel?”

There was something hilarious about that. He wanted to laugh but he had a feeling that his hands wouldn’t support him if he did.

“Like being fucking impaled.”

“Hah. Minor discomforts are common. Wednesday’s man wouldn’t be this nice to you.”

He knew that. He fucking knew he couldn't expect anything from a man he had tried to lynch. That would be ridiculously stupid. But it was hard to stay rational when every thrust felt like a punch in guts. Which was exactly what was happening, only from the inside. He wondered what is expected from him. Maybe he was supposed to move as well.

He tasted salt on his lips but he couldn't tell if it was from sweat or tears. It wasn't like he cared particularly, his main concern right now was trying not think about the details of what was happening, because that triggered an urge to vomit.

“You are quite special. Do you know why?”

<”Please shât âp.”>

“You feed only on the attention people subconsciously give you. But there is no direct worship. Even media has some. But not you.”

Of course not. Why would you believe in some higher power, ugh, when you see people worshiping Steve Jobs.

His breath was leaving him but he managed to giggle at his own misery.

“Hackers- are natural atheists.” Except Russians, because everyone is orthodox christian in Russia, of course. The man seemed to ignore the pain in his voice.

He wondered where this was going. Right now he would pay the man just to stop him from stating the obvious. He tried to meet the thrusts, to guide the penetration into places which hurt less, but it wasn’t very effective. The muscles in his arms were stretched to their limit. They would stop supporting him soon.

“Ah, it makes you too dependent on technology. When you are not connected to the direct source, you become erratic.”

Complete dependence on constant energy support. Power cut equals disconnecting of vital functions. This definitely wasn't what it was in the beginning. He felt like he was going to suffocate on his own gasps. When you block the blood flowing to your brain, it starts to die. Thousands of cells at the same  time. He gave up, slamming his head into the sheets. Maybe if he was lucky, he would really suffocate.

“In the motel you weren’t, ah, dying. You just felt what is it like to lose your worshipers.”

Suffocation makes you dizzy and unable to process sensations like pleasure or pain. When you get oxygen to your head again, it sets off a warm and fuzzy feeling. It is just your brain dying. Kids sometimes do it for kicks. He would like to turn off now.

“It wouldn’t kill you. It would just drive you mad.”

An error. Argument out of range. There were no simple commentaries with the man. This wasn't about the worship, he knew that already. Mr. World had his way around others. Making them do exactly what he wanted. Webs of lies over the entire earth, his agenda knew no national borders while the boy himself was strongly bound to the continent. He had admired him once. For rhetoric. For ruthlessness.

“See, you are not so different from the Old Gods.”

Empathy - no, Relatability. That’s what was this all about. 7Hkí$Ęľ˛ÖŤÎ:şá�?zŤ:Ý3Ř´AŮô There was a spark of pain going through his spinal cord to the brain - a realization he didn’t want to admit to himself before.

<”You asshole. You fucking {$asshole}.”>

“You chose that place. Specifically. Just to fuck me up.”

<”And don't even bother to pretend you didn't.”>

“You have to learn your place.”

He would laugh again if there was some space left for breathing. He was literally fucking DYING in that place. He did not have that coming.  P          D         d    ă           €?    ő         á      ÍĚĚ=  €?   He did not deserve that. Great spartan parenting methods right here.

“It was necessary.” Mr. World’s thrusts were precise and steady. Punishingly deep. The boy wondered if the man would have let him die in the motel if he proved to be too weak to survive in his own. Probably not, not him, but that doesn’t make the guy less of a cunt. He fucking hated old men talking shit and they did it all the time. What he hated even more was that no one ever opposed them. All this nonsense accepted without any opposition just because a grey old guy was the one spewing it. Global warming, unexpected economy fails, political coups, all these inside jobs, surely existing threats of nuclear weapons in third world countries. Of course he did participate in the whole deal. But he hated it. He hated that the man thought he can be misled too. Just because he’s still young.

“You would never realize - how important is accepting old ways - what does it mean to really adapt.”

< “Let me guess. It hurt€™s you more than it hurt€™s me?”>

Boy’s whole body was moved forward by the force of the man’s thrusts. He buried his face in the mattress. It still felt like being ripped apart. He tried to relax his muscles but it didn’t help. It only made him feel more passive. This wasn’t going to do it for him. Masturbating with an old PS controller would have been more efficient.

 _‘Thanks God for the vibration test option.’_ These were times. Hysteria was getting him.

<*câ€™mon, you stupid {$bitch}, letâ€™s get this over with >

If he wanted to get off today, he would have to do it himself. Which was better anyway. He wouldn't be called a fucking pillow queen. His hand reached between his legs. He imagined a different touch. That the man behind him was moaning his name. Remove empty DockArea while reading memory layout.  type=UEditor.FallbackMemory, instanceID=9378 †

If he ever got one of course. His existence begone in haste.

Mr. World flipped him on his back.

Maybe his brain was running low on oxygen thanks to hyperventilation, because he stopped perceiving pain. Or maybe it was the adrenaline. The man was flushed and his hair was sticking to his forehead. He still had his shirt on and was smiling like the biggest cunt in the world.

He wanted to claw his eyes out.

Mr. World lowered himself on him. If he wanted to kiss him, the boy prevented it by turning his head into mattress. At least the man didn't urge him. Maybe he understood they are past kissing now. Something about his lips felt weird anyway. When he lifted the boy's legs and forced himself inside it did not hurt  as much as the initial penetration, but it was still far from pleasurable. For the boy at least. The man was obviously enjoying himself. When Mr. World was pounding him into the bed, he felt like he was becoming a part of the furniture.

He found himself wishing he had never agreed to this.

This whole situation was morbid. There were no candles and Mr. World wore his expensive shirt instead of some black cape, and yet he felt like being spread on an altar, the man's hands opening him in some fucked up version of autopsy. There indeed was something religious and old about this. But not in a pleasant way.

This wasn't what he wanted. It didn't feel good. One part of him still believed it would get better soon, since he wasn’t in much pain anymore, but his desire to continue was long gone. His mind was full of spite and frustration caused by the lack of logical validity in Mr. World’s arguments. Old Gods didn’t need constant connection, which made them completely different from him. And if the man was implying they can last in the long run he could go fuck himself with a crucifix. Technical Boy was the future.

“You know- I want only the best for you- but you are being too reckless.”

<”Oh for fucks sake, no more theo-philosophical talk.”>

He was going to be everywhere sooner rather than later.

“You think you can predict people’s behavior. But you cannot even think about the consequences of your actions.”

Maybe this was a punishment after all. It would explain the man's concern about his failed attempt at seducing Shadow. He wondered if that would make the man a cuck, considering their relationship. Mr. World was trying to raise him, lead him, they had nice business deals, and he tried to jump the black guy’s dick. No wonder he was concerned. Maybe he was trying to prove that step-parenting is not the ultimate form of cuckoldry because he was definitelly getting off on something. 

“Do you know why - is people’s behaviour so unpredictable?”

He groaned in displeasure, but the man didn’t seem to mind. He did not care. He did not fucking care. He wanted this to be over. He wanted to cut Mr. World's hands off so he would never touch him again. He wanted to get up and go to his limo and get high. Shit, he could use a vape right now.

“It’s because human mind cannot be mapped. It’s chaotical.”

Human mind is their search history. Or, if you want to be precise, the keyboard hit recorder. Google keeps track for you. His fingers were starting to go numb. The man cut off the circulation in them by his grip. He was stronger than he looked. Maybe he secretly lifted. He seemed the fuckin type. Maybe he was a little low on self esteem. He used all his strength to bare his teeth at him.

“I can manage chaos theory pretty well.”

<”Did your daddy fuck you too?”>

“Yes, but your schematic thinking makes understanding it impossible.”

“You, ah, fucking sure? It still fits to the pattern.”

“Try to consider for once that not everything is logically structured.”

Bullshit. Everything in nature follows certain patterns. Even people works in fractals. Fractals can be generated. Old Gods were created in a different way than he was. It was too much information and all of it was distracting. It was too hot. He had to cool down somehow or his brain was going to be cooked inside of his skull. This must be how Intel cores feel. He tried to dismiss the man.

“Even randomness is countable.”

He was in no mood for conversation. He was in a mood for banging his head against any available surface solid enough to crush his skull.

“Selecting the fittest is never natural. It's - artificial.”  
He knew what the man is talking about. Real selection is affected by outside forces. It's random. Chaotic. He could go fuck himself with that too.

“We are going into holy fucking war here. I need you to stay with me.”

Did Mr. World just say ‘fucking?’ He couldn’t be sure. Everything was fuzzy. He did not even feel the pain anymore. Actually, it was hard to feel anything except the uncomfortable heat. His mind distanced itself. His head hurt. He wanted to get off.

He needed to concentrate on something else. Pleasure. Breathing. Maybe that video with Halle Von where she gets lifted into the air and fucked by her two feet taller yoga trainer.

He felt sharp pain on his cheek. He looked at Mr. World in confusion.

“Stay with me.”

Mr. World would never use physical punishment on him unless it was completely necessary. He had to admit he was losing himself. But who could blame him when the man kept talking bullshits.

The man slapped him again into full attention. His breath was hot and very close his face. The kid couldn’t look at him. His stomach ached. Must have been the burger he ate. Bad fucking idea to eat before- before-

"I feel weird-" Drained. Something was draining him.

“What are you, boy?”

<”Progress. Communication. The core base of a new century.”>

_People worship God. ń(c˝¸¨Ćzďy2Ö ŁŒ_ 


But why would you believe in Creation when you yourself have the power to create.

Somewhere in Japan, a few men believe that the next step in human evolution is creating artificial life.

With a low birth rate and no desire for procreation, the future of the population lies in binnar legacy.

Today it's the geminoid. Tomorrow it will be a new form of consciousness.

Transhumanism pushed over its borders.

But what was this all about then. He couldn’t stop thinking.

“Your existence, ah, is a proof of humanity’s conceit.”

Redistribution of power. A tool for them to become Gods themselves. He was losing himself.

<shut up shut up shut up shut up shut up shut up shut up shut up shut up>

Boy’s breathing was erratic. He noticed his limbs slightly shaking. He wondered if it was some distant echo of arousal.

“They worship God. But they expect technology to be their bitch.”

The exact opposite of deity.

The man was panting like he was the one being fucked, and not the boy. His own strength was long time gone. He realized he’s not hard anymore. Not fulfilling minimal requirements then. Hah.

“Shit kid, you are-”

He wondered if Mr. World even noticed. He wondered which option was worse.

Thrusts fastened. He wished the man would hurry up. Or stopped talking at least.

“You are no god.”

He let out a laugh between his quickened breaths. It was a high, hysterical thing and he had to stop because he would vomit otherwise. His eyes were burning.

<”Neither are you.”>

“You need to learn to respect the Old Gods,” Mr. World’s voice was deep and breathy, “Then we can consider you one of us.“

Soon it will all be him. Technology surpassing all of them.

Every technology needs transmitters, communication, a digital interface. Old Gods are outdated, analog based.–›sľ UÎź˝9ýl 2ĎIÍßž–Đ Placeholder not found \ K J Content null

Mr. World wouldn't hurt him.

“I admit that with 3D printed hearts and artificial wombs, ah, the future looks bright for you,” the man was close. Boy could feel his rhythm stuttering.

<”T¸qéüF[râT¸q“Ňâ•gŠďáŹx ‚Œ !žR7”>

“But right now it gets one strategically placed jammer to make you completely-”

_“I didn't know there is still a place like this in America.”_

His head went blank.

Or maybe it just started again.

“Get out.”

He couldn’t take it anymore. The man’s movements stopped.

He was going to push the man off him and then

Shit.

He wanted this like fifteen minutes ago.

Damn, he needed this. He looked at the man. There was an accusation in Mr World’s eyes.

A compromise is customary.

“Cum outside.”

The asshole sounded amused.

“Alright. Come here, boy.”

<”                                                     ”>

He let himself be turned on his back and didn't move when the man positioned himself in front of his face. He understood now why whores look into guy's eyes. He couldn't stand looking at the rapid movement of the man's hand.

The tip of Mr. World’s dick pushed against his lips. He wasn't going to open his mouth for-

<”Oh.”>

It wasn't necessary then. A fan of porn was spotted.

Warm drops of sticky liquid landed on his jaw.

Judas kiss, if such archaism is allowed.

He would laugh again but he felt stomach acid in his throat. Better keep the mouth closed then.

 

Tinnitus is shit. It comes in various forms, from constant ringing and whistling over a beat which is actually an echo of your heart to an abrupt and very loud sound which sounds similar to a jet fighter. The boy especially hated the last one. He would like to hear any of them now. It would make the room less silent.

That’s how you kill a God.

Silence.

Solitude.

“What do you feel?”

He was trembling with anger. What's the point of being silent when your hate is obvious?

He hated the man so much. He hated that he just HAD TO ask. Fucking- Fucking-

He swallowed bitter comment anyway and wiped his mouth like there was any dignity left for him.

“Ahahah. If you are still worried about my loyalty and honor or whatever shit is was about, I- assure you, I don’t give a fuck about Shadow Moon.“

His voice was raspy and he couldn’t look at the man.

Mr. World’s voice was quiet.

“I wouldn’t think you do.”

The boy shaked head.

“Sex never interested me much anyway.” Technology is naturally asexual. It doesn't reproduce biologically. Sexual drive is therefore useless. Unprofitable.

“It will come in time.” The calm, soothing voice again. Like the guy didn’t fuck him into the mattress a few minutes ago. That did it. He got up and mechanically went to the bathroom. He basically threw himself to the toilet as soon as the door closed behind him.

He always hated vomiting when someone was around.

How can one vomit silently. He tried to keep himself from coughing. He wasn’t crying anymore, not tears. It felt like crying without them. Or maybe screaming. Very loudly and into the toilet.

The bottom part of his body was burning and slick all over.

He inspected the damage. There was no blood, which pissed him off. If there was any, he could call the man a savage. Now he just looked like a pussy.

Of course, Mr. World would never really hurt him. Suddenly he wasn’t sure how much of it really happened. He knew he was malfunctioning. So were his senses. He could have hallucinated a good half of it.

He got up and looked into the mirror.

Most of - Most of it stayed on his cheek and jaw, but a few drops got into his hair.

<”You just had to make your point, you fucking asshole.>”

He almost heard Media singing Gyöngyhajú lány.

What a picture he made. His hair had a tendency to get curly when wet. Now he looked like a sheep. A sheep with fucking cum all over it.

It would be counterproductive to attempt suicide right now.

_“Life went on as before. Man would live once more.”_

The smell of vomit was everywhere in the bathroom. He decided it’s best to leave before he will reek of it.

 

* * *

 01010011 01010101 01010000 01000101 01010010 01000101 01000111 01001111 00001010 00001010   


He wasn’t spared of the last encounter with Mr. World. The old fuck managed to put himself into a much more presentable state in these five minutes than he himself did. If he could hate the man more he would.

“I need you to make some arrangements for the battle.”  

Business then. Incredible.

He was handed a list.

Oh. The man really wasn’t going to leave anything to chance.

“Helicarriers. Are we finally taking Iraq?”

That was no ordinary fucking grocery list. He had no idea what the man was planning and he did not like it. Today’s meeting just left more questions.

It was going to be a massacre. An unnecessary one.

He turned to leave, but man’s voice stopped him.

“One more thing.”

“Yeh?”

“You did good.”

This would be hard if he felt anything. Which he didn’t.

“Did I make you proud?”

Mr. World didn't respond. Suddenly he wasn't sure if he said anything. His mouth wouldn't open for some reason. He left without looking back.

 

* * *

EPILOGUE

In regards of last events it wasn't the weirdest thing which happened to Shadow Moon. If he had to be honest he wasn't even surprised that he recognized the technical kid’s presence before he even said anything. It was very different from the one sided conversation attempts with Wednesday. Or whatever was left of him. Maybe the boy wanted to be acknowledged. Maybe ghosts were always there all that shit just made him aware of his surroundings. Who can tell.

He looked at the ceiling. He had no idea where the kid is, his presence wasn't wholesome. For some reason the ceiling seemed to be the best idea.

“Is this some ghost party? I didn't know it's already Halloween.”

“Oh, my fucking mistake. I always confused it with Christmas. You see, DEC24 equals OCT31.”

If he had any doubts there were gone by now. Familiar cocky voice couldn't be mistaken.

“What?”

“It doesn't matter.”

It occurred him that maybe if looked to the mirror he would see a brat with bright eyes and a hole between his front teeth, making annoyed puffy face.

It was silly, of course.

“You look good Shadow.”

“Do you want something?”

“No idea, can a ghost want something?”

“You tell me.”

“The shit I know. I have some ideas but I don't want to get rekt by your crazy wife.”

“She's-” Dead. Again. She found her peace. Finally. He was glad. “-gone.”

“I know, man. Sorry about that. But trust me she still can be pain in the ass.”

“Is she- You can- You meet her?”

“Mmm. It's complicated. But we ended up in the same shithole, yeah.”

He didn’t know how to ask. Nothing will ever prepare you for a chitchat with dead kids.

“Did you- I didn't see you in the battle.”

“No, it was before it. He killed me as an initial offer.”

“Wednesday?”

“No. The one who called himself Mr. World back then.”

“Shit, kid. I’m sorry.”

“Don't be. I never got anything I didn't ask for.”

“No one asks for being killed.”

There was long silence. It was even more awkward since Shadow didn't know where the kid is. Maybe he wasn't really anywhere but his presence didn't leave the room.

“Do you know what’s the difference between Jewish and Islamic version of the story about Abraham and his son?”

“Not really?”

“In the muslim version the son knows Allah ordered his father to kill him and he comes willingly. In the Biblical story Abraham tricks his son into coming with him to the offering place. The son has no idea that it's not a lamb what is being killed that day.”

Boy's voice was full of sorrow. Maybe it was just how the ghost voices sounded like.

“In a way they both asked for it, didn't they.”

It didn't sound like a question. Not for the first time of that evening Shadow didn't know what to say.

“Oh, c’mon Shadow, don't look like kicked dog or I’ll start to call you Puppy too.”

“Please don't.”

“Yeh, it's disgusting. Anyway, I didn't come here to rant about my poor ass decisions. I wanted to ask you to forgive me.”

“What?”

“I’m sorry for killing you. This time really. It opens your mind you know.”

He wanted to ask him what he means but then he realized it's obvious.

“You didn't really kill me.”

“No, Shadow, you really did die on that tree. You should know it by now.”

Something about this conversation was more crimson than anything he encountered in last months. More morbid than the prolonged existence of Laura.

“Can you- become alive again? It's not like all internet went down when you died.”

“No, no I don't think so. I’m more likely to be replaced by a newer version. Obviously it happened before.”

“I’m sorry.”

“You say that too much. As I said you have nothing to be sorry for. Me on the other hand- Killing you was unforgivable. I gave in to Wednesday’s damned trap and my own shitty personality. And I am sorry.”

“I- I forgive you.”

“A bad choice, but thanks.”

The voice sounded amused.

“Bye, Shadow Moon. You should go and get a life. Maybe it makes me sound like a hypocrite but she thinks that too.”

“I have plane tickets to Amsterdam for tomorrow.”

“Leaving States? I didn't mean it like that but whatever. Maybe you find your way out in Europe.”

“There is nothing for me here.”

“You think so? You are connected to this ground, Shadow. Even if you don’t feel it yet. Europe is too old for all of us.”

The room was silent again. Shadow looked into the mirror. He saw only himself.

**Author's Note:**

> So many things were cut and many concepts were deleted. In the original epilogue were Wednesday and Mr. World discussing Technical Boy's role and it contained lot of homophobic jokes about Loki's sexuality but then I decided to give to Technical Boy some resolution. It seemed just fair. Poor kid. Anyway, I hope I managed to keep characters as awful as they are.


End file.
